They were giving her space. Mercy. But all she could feel was time, slipping through her fingers like ash.
-Alarik-
The storm outside was louder than it had any right to be. But it was nothing compared to the storm that had come to a head between them days earlier, when they stood across from one another in the shadowed war room, neither armed with blades, but both prepared to bleed, to make a decision.
Neither of them spoke.
It had been Thauren who broke the silence, slamming a goblet of wine onto the map-scattered table and muttering, “If either of you plot to win her affections instead of support her, I’ll drown you myself. We don’t have time for a lovers quarrel, in the middle of our impending doom.”
They both agreed to a truce.
And somehow, it worked.
An hour later, the agreement had been struck, uneasy but true.
No questions of loyalty. No demands for devotion.
Maris was not to be claimed. She was to be aided.
No war amongst the nightbound kingdoms.
No blades turned on kin.
No power plays for crowns or affection.
Only war against the god who had twisted them all.
And Maris, was the line they would defend.
They would take shifts at her side, always someone there to shield her if the Veil struck again. If Eiren made her presence known. Her comfort, her peace, her decisions, those would be sacred. Not dictated. Not coerced.
Whatever she needed, she would have.
Whatever she asked, it would be given.
Alarik had thought the vow might feel like surrender. But as he stood there now, inside her chamber door, listening to the storm hissing through the high glass windows of the corridor, he didn’t feel defeated.
He felt at peace.
For once, they were no longer fighting for her love.
They were fighting beside it.
He closed his eyes, letting his head rest against the stone for a moment, his fingers still curled around the hilt of the sword at his hip, not because he meant to use it, but because he needed to ground himself.
The goddess had twisted their fates long before Maris drew her first breath.
Now she would undo what Eiren had corrupted.
And Alarik would not let her stand alone.
Chapter sixty-two
Watchful Eyes
-Maris-
The castle felt different now.
